Allie dropped her bags of ice with a thud. She’d expected something, but not something this fast or this extreme.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“If it were a car, it would be towed to an impound lot until ownership could be determined. But that’s kind of hard to do with a boat. So this order specifies that the Dragonfly can’t leave her slip.”
She could feel the blood draining from her face. “I have charters all week!”
“I know, Allie. I hope you realize I had nothing to do with this. I’m just doing my job.”
“Oh, Thom, I don’t blame you. It’s that jerk lawyer, Cooper Remington. Do I have to vacate the boat?” That was a frightening thought. A tiny berth on the Dragonfly wasn’t much, but it was the only home she had. She didn’t have enough ready assets in her personal account for even a month’s rent for an efficiency apartment.
“No mention of that. In some cases like this, they would put a locking device on the boat’s ignition so the engines couldn’t even be started. But I don’t think Judge Isaacs was willing to go for anything like that. He knows if there’s a court order, you’ll obey it.”
“Of course I will, but why did they do this? I understand they want to get their hands on my boat, but what would it hurt if I kept working while this gets sorted out?”
Thom shrugged. “I haven’t met the guy, so I don’t know.” He held out the court order. She took it and shoved it into her straw tote bag without reading it.
“I’m really sorry,” Thom said. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“That’s really nice of you to offer.” She noticed then that the Princess II-Jane and Scott’s boat next door-looked as if it had been closed up tight. “What happened to the Simones?” she asked. “They were here Friday. I thought they were staying through this week.”
Again, Thom shrugged. “No idea.”
Deflated, Allie said goodbye to Thom and boarded the Dragonfly, dragging her now useless ice. She would have to hunt down another fishing boat and captain for the party she expected in a couple of hours. She felt terrible about disappointing some of her most loyal customers. It had taken Johnny many years to build a reputation as a quality, reliable charter service. Even when they’d downsized, they’d been careful to never promise what they couldn’t deliver.
It wouldn’t take too many canceled trips for word to get around that she was a flake and the business was down the tubes.
Allie put away the groceries, then headed down the long dock to find an idle fishing boat, her heart heavy. But only a few footsteps later, she skidded to a stop. Maybe there was another way. She would have to swallow all the vitriol she longed to hurl at Cooper Remington and make nice, but if it meant the difference between failure and survival, she’d do it. She turned around and headed for her car.
Normally she would just walk the seven or eight blocks to the Sunsetter B and B. But time was of the essence. So she drove through the sleepy streets of Port Clara. In another few weeks the place would be teeming with tourists. Front Street, which paralleled the beach, would be closed off to car traffic and filled curb-to-curb with pedestrians. She relished the relative quiet, when it was mostly just the locals and the snowbirds. But tourists were the lifeblood of this place, so she welcomed them, too.
The Sunsetter B and B was a beautiful yet quirky redbrick Victorian two blocks off Front Street on Magnolia Lane. Although it did not have a view of the ocean, it was a lovely place to stay, sheltered as it was by a grove of coconut palms and surrounded by bougainvillea.
When Allie was a little girl, she’d been scared of Miss Greer. But she’d soon learned that the stern widow had a soft spot for anybody who needed a cookie.
Years ago, Miss Greer had offered free room and board to Sara Kaufman, one of Allie’s best friends, in return for minor repair work and painting. Sara, on her own for the first time, had jumped at the chance. She’d lived there ever since.
But Sara wasn’t here now. She’d taken off a few weeks ago, as she was prone to do.
Cooper Remington’s beautiful silver BMW was parked in the street in front of the B and B. Pretentious creep. Another car, a flashy red Corvette, was parked across the street. Not a lawyer car. She wondered who carried the keys to that one in his pocket.
Realizing she was wasting time, she turned off the motor of her own car and got out. If she was lucky she would catch Cooper here, and she could plead her case. She took a deep breath and ordered herself to keep her temper firmly leashed. Flying off the handle wouldn’t serve her purposes.
“Allie. How nice to see you,” Miss Greer said pleasantly.
Allie folded her in a hug. At first the old woman was stiff as a plank, but Allie held on to her until she softened slightly and returned the hug, sort of. “It’s nice to see you, too, Miss Greer. How’s business?”
“It was a little slow, with Sara gone and the last of the snowbirds checking out yesterday. But these New Yorkers are filling in and the tourists are almost upon us.”
“Is Mr. Remington here?” she asked politely.
“Which one?”
“Any of them.” Maybe she wouldn’t have to talk to Cooper directly.
“Mr. Cooper is in the dining room, working on a computer no bigger than a slice of bread. On a lovely day like this!”
Probably drafting eviction notices to serve on women and children somewhere. Lawyers just loved paperwork. “I’ll only keep him for a minute.” A minute was all it would take to state her case and find out whether Cooper was a sensible sort or a complete jerk. She would put her money on the latter, if she’d had any money left to put.
She saw him before he saw her. He sat at the dining-room table, which he’d covered with stacks of paper and file folders. His slim laptop was open in front of him, and he was tapping furiously on it, his brow furrowed in concentration.
He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes. His hair was shorter than she normally liked, but it was a beautiful, deep-brown color. He had a lean face with movie-star cheekbones, a longish but straight nose, and a mouth that suggested to her all kinds of things she shouldn’t think about in this context. His eyebrows were straight, dramatic slashes over eyes that she already knew were a deep, improbable shade of blue.
She tried to picture him relaxed in a deck chair wearing Hawaiian shorts and holding an umbrella drink.
Didn’t work.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Remington.”
He looked up, obviously surprised. “Ms. Bateman. I didn’t expect to see you here. If this is about our dispute, it would be wiser to communicate through your attorney.”
“I have an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow, but he’s unavailable today and there is a matter of some urgency I’d like to discuss.” Nice. Be nice.
His gaze flickered behind her to the doorway. “Perhaps we should step outside.”
“If you’re worried about Miss Greer, don’t be. She doesn’t eavesdrop, and she would never repeat anything she inadvertently overheard.”
“And you know this…how?”
“I’ve known the woman since I was in diapers, that’s how.”
“Still, I could use the fresh air.”
Fine by her. Cooper led the way to the front door, opening it and holding it politely for her to go first. She got a whiff of his scent as she passed through the door, something refreshing and citrusy. Hmph. Did he think good manners and designer aftershave would impress her? But she took a nice deep breath just the same.
As soon as they were on the front porch with the door closed, she turned toward him. “Why did you request that injunction?”
He looked taken aback by her direct approach, but she didn’t believe in mincing words.
Apparently he didn’t, either. “You’re a flight risk. You’re about to lose a valuable asset, and you have no close ties in the area. You could-”